Love's Wounds
by K-Shandra
Summary: It was not supposed to hurt this much. Tags 10X23.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Love's Wounds  
Genre: NCIS – Angst  
Pairing: Tony and Ziva  
Rating: M – for language and implied content.  
Timeline: Tags 10X23.  
Spoilers: Vague for that episode and Ziva's Israel trip.  
Summary: It was not supposed to hurt this much.  
Disclaimer: If they were mine I would not hurt them this much.  
A/N: This one is for Sammy, because I know how much her heart bled for him.  
Written: June 2013  
Language: International English.  
Word Count: 1,494

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Tony closed the door behind him and braced his back against it, allowing his backpack to slip unchecked to the floor. Drawing in a deep breath, he lifted his hands and rubbed his face as he allowed gravity to pull him down. The emotional burden of the day simply too overwhelming, his legs gave up the fight to hold him upright and saw him sinking to his haunches.

The heavy sensation on his heart tightened to an overwhelming, painful, ache, and had he not been aware of the cause, he would have thought there was something seriously wrong with it. They weight that had earlier settled over it, had felt crushing, and if he was honest with himself, a crushed heart would probably been easier to handle, that the pain his thought, and feelings provoked, and on the back of them anger….

How could she!

He had been there for her, willing to catch her, support her, god even give his life for her…. he'd even gone as far as telling her she was not alone; And then she had to go and do this, had to go rip his heart out in the most callous of ways. He could not even put to words what he was feeling, because words and emotions never seemed to come together for him, he never seems to be able to make sense of it all… Like his feelings for her. They have always been there, he's always cared about her. Somehow life made sense when she was in it…. And no matter how much she hurt him, he could never turn his back on her, ever.

Over the last few months they had grown closer: It had caused him to hope, like he's never even dared of hoping before. He really thought he had gotten through to her, that she actually saw that he was serious, that he wanted a chance, wanted to be considered worthy. Only for her to turn to another_, 'A moment of weakness,_' she had called it. Deep down he could understand, hell, he was as guilty of them. But this time it hurt, this time it had touched a part of him he never allowed anyone to touch, and as much as he tied to understand, he could not come to accept her actions.

He wanted to be the one she turned to during times like that. He did not just want to be the one who picked her up and dusted her off. He wanted to be the one that made her feel less lonely, that got to share those intimacies with her. She was supposed to be his, dammit!

The day had been difficult enough, just the unveiling of her actions had been enough to send his hear crashing to the ground… yet that had been nothing compared to her dismissal thereof, like she thought it would not affect him. Only to be followed by his own infliction of self-torture; thought and images of her and the other guy… the realization that she had allowed another that close, that intimate to her. That another man had gotten to remove her clothes, had touched, kissed that which was forbidden to him. His hands clenched into tight fists as he fought against the images.

The entire afternoon he had fought to keep it together, to remain cool and calm, and to do his job. For so many years he had rejected those things that hurt him, had brushed them off… but this was different. It was not something he could joke about, only to cast aside. Even within his own haven, where he hid from the world and all of its dishonesty, he was no longer safe. Here he could feel thing, allow things to take hold of him, without others discovering it. It was safe… or used to be. For it no longer felt safe, other had moved within these walls, disturbing the solace they once contained: first his father with his philandering, swindling ways, and then her…

Memories of her presence in his home, filled every room. If he closed his eyes he could see her there, almost as if her presence lingered. It felt right, like it belonged. Only now it hurt, the thought of what she had done after sleeping in his bed… he could visualize her within these walls, could see her in his bed, and remembered what it was like to be there with her: to be there when she needed someone, him, and to touch her, to feel her warm skin under his palms.

And it angered him, God how it angered him. He has always put her needs first, though of what would be best for her… and he had patiently waited his turn, hoping that it had finally arrived. It had been so hard, bordering on excruciatingly painful, not to pull her into his arms that night. Not to take advantage of her momentary weakness, her need for comfort. To ease her pain in the simplest way possible, the way that got him what he wanted…. But no, foolishly he had waited, and instead of turning to him, she had turned to another.

That night in Berlin he should have known something was wrong, it was not like her to be hesitant to share a bed with him; there had been the undercover thing, and Paris and that hot hellhole last year. He should have known something was wrong when she hesitated. Yet foolishly he had believed that it was only because of the growing awareness between them, that she felt it to, and although it was not yet time to act on it, she was not fighting it. He wanted to hold her, to be close to her, like that evening in Paris, where he had simply soaked up her presence, and allowed it to sooth his soul.

Yet it didn't make sense, because even though he was angry with her, livid even, he could forgive her… and that, only because he was not there at the time. She had far away from him, and not yet his; in actuality. And that was what hurt the most. The fact that he actually has no right to feel the way he does; but even that reasoning did not make him feel it any less. Just the thought that another man had been that intimate with her, that he had peeled off her clothes, relished in her body, that he had….

Seeing red did not even begin to describe what he felt. The rage that filled him at the injustice of it all. God, he was more than willing to step forward and be that for her, even if all she wanted was casual…

No. He couldn't, not with her. It was too much to ask.

He needed to possess her, claim her, imprint on her that he would be her last lover. He could not be casual, would never be able to cast off such a thing a weak moment. But if it was all he could have, he would take it; it was despicable what she managed to do to him. Drink, he needed a drink. And with that thought he got up from the floor and made for his bar, not even sparing the bottle he grabbed a glance. It did not matter what he drank, as long as it numbed his mind, and possibly the pain.

He splashed a hefty amount into a glass and then took it with him to the couch, where he simply flopped down. He needed time to make sense of it all time, to make peace with the fact that she was unlikely to ever accept his as more of a brotherly figure, a friend. Someone she could lean on, but never wanted in any other capacity. It hurt; all his thoughts hurt. Never before had it bugged him as much… yes, he'd known she was with Rifkin, and Ray, and it had bugged him; but not like this. It had not felt like someone had taken a blunt knife and scythed at his guts with it. But mostly, it was the fact that she could turn to another in a moment of weakness, that she could so freely give to someone else that which he was practically begging, panting for. God he'd as good as sell his soul to be allowed the privilege of caressing her naked skin, to be allowed to sink into her; to finally discover the one thing that has eluded him for so many years already.. He felt sick to his stomach simply thinking of it. His grip tightened on the glass, threatening to shatter it as his knuckles turned white.

Well if she could turn to another, what was stopping him? He put his glass down and reached for his wallet, checking his contents, he had enough cash and a condom, he could go trolling, get hammered and laid….

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Missy's ears finally pricked, after her three month long hiatus…


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Love's Wounds – Chapter 2  
**Genre**: NCIS – Romance /Angst.  
**Pairing**: Tony and Ziva.  
**Rating**: M  
**Timeline**: Season 10 cannon for now.  
**Spoilers**: For the moment this is still cannon, but will go AU in the next few chapters.  
**Summary**: Tony goes trolling…  
**Disclaimer**: If they were mine the unspeakable would not have happened….  
**A/N**: I slipped the tight rein I've had Missy on lately, and allowed her to play again.  
**A/N 2**: Alex, I love you, you know that right, you always speak your mind and actually had me giggling. You'll like this one….  
**Written**: September 2013.  
**Language**: International English.  
**Word Count**:2,752

❤ *·.·´¯`·.·* *·.·´¯`·.· **TIVA** ·.·´¯`·.·* *·.·´¯`·.·* ❤

The smoke hung thick in the air as he stepped into the bar. The muted music was barely audible beneath the droll of conversation, clinking of bottles and the smacking collision of pool balls. It was not the usual bar he frequented, the upper-class one he shared drinks with her… no, this was the type of establishment you came to for one of two reasons, to get utterly plastered, or to pick up an easy lay. And considering his mood, he would happily opt for either, possibly both, if he could get away with it.

He glanced about the hazy room, made out the worn bar on the far end, and made his way over to it, sidestepping the power drinkers and brawlers. Picking up chicks in these places was easy, they usually came to him, he only had to find a good spot. Women are funny like that; they take one look at a guy and establish whether they would sleep with him or not, well unless you're Ziva… Tony shook his head. That was not a particular area he wanted his thoughts to linger on. As it was he'd come to this hell hole in order to escape those thoughts.

The smell of spilt beer filed his senses as he approached the worn bar he shifted a few places down where the odor was less pungent and took a vacant seat. The bartender came up to him, and Tony looked over the middle aged man, whose face held a hardened expression on one well used to dealing with difficult clientele.

"What ya having?" the bartended gruffly asked.

Tony flipped out his wallet and slipped a twenty over the counter, "Whiskey, double on the rocks."

The man nodded and then took the note, before turning from him gripping a glass from the rack dropping some ice in it before adding the whiskey. He then turned and slid the glass towards Tony as he spoke, "You're not one of the regulars."

"Just passing through." Tony replied lifting the surprisingly clean glass to his lips.

The bartender shrugged and turned towards the register. "Nicer places than this one to pass through." The man deadpanned as he rung up Tony's drink.

Tony gulped half of the glass's contents in one gulp, the strong liquor burning its way down his throat, knocking his breath back, "I think this one is good enough for now." He replied before gulping down the remainder of the drink and sliding the glass back at the bartender, "Another."

The man caught it, before replying, "Woman troubles."

Tony looked at the man tilting his head some before finally nodding, "How'd you figure."

The barman shrugged. "A well-dressed guy in a place like this…" he said, indicating to the regular patrons in their denims and assortment of worn leather jackets, "…you usually come here for one of two reasons; to get drunk, or to get fucked. And both of those are usually because of a woman." The man slid Tony's glass back at him

Tony caught it and lifted it in salute to the bartender, "You know your customers." He then again took a gulp.

"If ya wanted to get fucked, you should have come earlier," the bartender replied as he rung up Tony's drink. "The half decent chicks have all already been taken,"

"I'm not picky," Tony flatly relied turning his attention to the room, glancing over the patrons. His gaze landed on a blond, which was dressed in something possibly two sizes to small and bearing a lot of flesh. His inner man cringed at the thought, and he quickly moved on. His eye caught a brunette, her long wavy hair drew a closer inspection, but he shook his head, too tall for his liking. Four more were dismissed in a similar fashion, either being too tall, too fat, having the wrong color hair. And it was only on his assessment of the seventh girl that he realized what he was doing, or at least what his unconscious mind was doing. Drawing in a deep breath he again turned to the bartender, gulping down the rest of his drink before ordering a beer, knowing he could get himself into all kinds of nasty trouble here.

The bartender slipped him his beer and he caught it, tilting it in thanks, just as the overwhelming smell of cheap perfume and hairspray filled his nostrils. Two inch long, fiery red nails curled over his forearm as their owner's screechy tone filled his ears, "Hey there handsome, how's about you and me go and have a good time?"

The low scratchy tone of her voice alone put him off, he was so used to Ziva's purr when she toyed with him… just then he mentally shook himself and turned towards the woman. He gave her a once over, noting the bleach blond hair that was closer to the color of straw than blond, and fought his initial desire to be ill at just the thought of touching her, and cringed at the fact that she had touched him.

He shook his head and replied as sincerely as he could, "No thanks honey, I'm good."

The woman pulled back her hand and looked him over, before firmly declaring, "Picky bastard."

Tony bit his tongue on the sharp retort he wanted to throw back at her, but decided against it, knowing in all likelihood that he would start some bar brawl, and he definitely didn't want to explain to Gibbs in the morning why he had been in the bar on a school night in the first place.

So he shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention to his drink.

Another woman propositioned him, only to receive the same brush off. He was really not ready for this; he still hurt too much to separate his feelings from the physical act.

An hour later, and a few more drinks, his mind was wonderfully hazy, and he was just about to get up from his seat when the bartender called his attention. Tony narrowed his gaze in order to better make out the man's hazy face, and swayed some.

"You want me to call someone to come get you?" the man asked.

Tony turned around in his chair swaying somewhat alarmingly. Before focusing on the room, noting its empty state. He reached into his pocket to pull out his phone only to glare at it as the screen lit up.

"You need a hand?" the man asked, causing Tony to look at him before handing over the phone.

"Call the first person on the list," Tony said before bracing his elbows on the bar top and resting his head in his palms. "She lives not too far from here."

He listened as the man spoke on his phone, giving the address of the bar, before ending the call and handing him back the phone. "She'll be here in a few minutes, said I should get some coffee into you."

"Yeah, I have work in the morning." Tony said in reply, before checking his watch, not even fazed by the early hour.

"Tony?" Abby's questioning voice came across the room some time later, and Tony turned to look at her, taking in her quickly assembled wardrobe consisting of a pair of sweat pants and what suspiciously looked like one of Gibbs's shirts, but then that should not surprise him.

"Hey Abbs!" he called back, way louder than it should have been.

"Okay when he told me you were hammered, I didn't realize he meant this hammered." Abby said as she approached him. "Come on let's get you home."

"Tony moved from the chair as he bemoaned, "Don't wanna go home, too much of her there."

Abby looked at him in question, and then flung his arm over her shoulder, "Okay, fine, you can spend what's left of the night on my couch."

"Thank you." Abby called to the bartender as they turned to leave.

"Hey, he's welcome anytime, least trouble I've had in my bar in a long time."

"I'll tell him." Abby threw back as the made for the door.

Ten minutes later they stumbled into Abby's apartment. Tony had been quiet all the way there. So much so that Abby had thought he'd fallen asleep. She helped him onto the couch, and returned with a pillow and a blanket when Tony's mouth finally opened…

"How do you do it, Abbs?"

"Do what?" Abby said casting the blanket over his prone form.

"You and Gibbs, how do you do it?"

Abby looked at him in confusion, shaking her head as she replied, "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on Abbs, you can level with me, I've seen the looks from both of you, the kisses and touches one would have to be blind not to see it."

"What?" Abby asked still confused.

"You two are…" Tony brought his two index fingers together, in explanation.

"Hu! Whatever gave you that idea?" she quickly flung back.

"Oh come on Abbs, we can all see there is something between the two of you. You've always been his favourite, he becomes all grumpy and difficult when you're even in the slightest amount of danger, or not where he wants you. And then we won't talk of the glare he has given so many when they even look at you."

"Tony, Gibbs and I are only friends." Abby earnestly replied.

"Yeah right, and pigs fly on Sundays… oh wait, I get it, you've got this friends with benefits thing going… nice."

"Tony!" Abby angrily retorted, causing him to look at her. "Gibbs and I are only friends. At most, he sees me as a daughter."

Tony just shook his head at that, "Ugh-ugh, not the way he looks at you."

"Tony, you're drunk. Because trust me if you were sober that would be the last thing you would say to me. Gibbs has never seen me as more, I'm not his type, and we all know it." Abby quickly deflected.

"Ugh-Ugh, I think you're exactly his type."

"Oh really and what about you and Ziva." Abby flung back.

He registered something in her voice, something akin to pain, something that told him she knew exactly what he was feeling. He lifted his hands to his face, as he swallowed against the ache that still settled around his heart. "She slept with him, Abbs," he moaned. "She slept with some other guy when I thought we were really onto something. But no, she had to go and find comfort in some other man's arms, allowed him to…" he choked on the end, unable to even say it. His gaze shifted to Abby, and he noted her downcast look as she nodded in understanding. "How do you do it Abbs, I'm not blind to what's between you and Gibbs."

"I think the most important part is accepting that there could never be more than what there is." Abby honestly, mutedly, replied. "As much as you want something more, you don't want to chance losing the person, or the connection you have. "

"I've tried, Abbs. God I've tried. Told myself every possible lie to keep her at a distance, to keep myself from taking what I shouldn't have."

"I never said it was easy, because sometimes it is really hard, especially when they are with someone you know is a wrong fit." Abby said sitting down on her coffee table in front of him. "Yet you keep back because you want them to find happiness, even if it's not with you."

"You love him, you really love Gibbs."

Abby just nodded in reply, her shoulders drooping some. "But we could never be more, it is something I've come to accept."

"Accept," Tony snorted, "more like hiding behind."

"Tony we are too different, our ages vary too greatly. Look at me, I'm all Goth, and he's… all Marine. I can't be what he needs in a life partner, I'm not sophisticated enough. Besides what does this have to do with you and Ziva." Abby flung back.

"You would understand. You know what it feels like."

"You know what, Tony. If you'd bothered to take off that cloak of self-pity you seemed to have wrapped yourself in, you would see that you have put Ziva through just as much, if not more. So before you come and spill the beans, or try to tell me what I'm supposedly not seeing, maybe you should look closer at what you've done to Ziva. Gibbs has never! Never! Not once led me to believe that he has interests in me in such a way. Where you've been playing cat and mouse with Ziva for years. So don't come feel sorry for yourself when she finds comfort in another man's arms, only because you don't have the balls to go for it."

"But, rule…" Tony started only to be cut short by Abby.

"Don't even site rule twelve, we've all broken Gibb's rules, and we've all received a rap on the knuckles or a head-slap for it, or as in my case a shouting reprimand, but the point is he gets over it, he forgives you and we move on. Look at you with E.J."

"Not your best example," Tony grumbled.

"No it is, you stood up to him and he respected your decision."

"This is Ziva, Abbs, you know, for all intents and purposes, his surrogate daughter."

"You know what, this is not a conversation to have at three in the morning, while you're drunk," Abby finally replied, rising from her seat. "We'll continue this when you're sober, and have stopped feeling sorry for yourself."

The following morning, Tony and Abby stepped out of the elevator, heading for the bullpen, Tony a couple of steps behind Abby.

"Come on, hurry up, we're late!" Abby said as they neared the bullpen.

"Yeah well I'm not you Miss Skippy Goth, who can get ready in twenty minutes flat in the morning," Tony grumbled.

"Yeah right you're the one that took forever to get dressed this morning," Abby replied turning the corner, halting dead in her tracks when she saw Gibbs glare at them and causing Tony to slam right into her.

"Gees Abbs, warn a man when you're gonna stop," he said reaching out to grip her shoulders and steady her before lifting his gaze towards Gibbs. His entire body froze over at the look in the man's eyes. He swallowed as their leader lifted a brow, causing him to yank his hands from Abby's shoulders.

"You spent the night together?" There was a touch of steel in Gibbs's voice; one which Tony knew boded ill, also that Gibbs, in all likelihood, was restraining himself from actually punching Tony, for breaking one of the unspoken rules… Namely, hands off Abigail. There would be head-slaps later, for certain, although postponing them would be for the better, seeing as his head was already way too tender to cope with the force of the one he was likely to receive.

"Most of the night," Tony replied stepping past Abby. He saw the unspoken question in the man's eyes, and noticed Abby's discomfort. Abby has never coped well with Gibbs's displeasure. Tony dropped his bag behind his desk his gaze shifting to look across the istle, to his partner, and noticed her shocked expression at the news, and possibly his nonchalance. "Although she should invest in a better couch, I think I have a kink in my back," Tony turned his gaze to Abby as he continued, "Next time Abbs, we're tossing for the coffin."

And just like that, Gibbs's glare lessened to only a scowl, and even Abby eased up some. "In the state you were in last night, there is no way I'd even let you near my coffin, never mind sleep in it" Abby flippantly replied, as she continued through the bullpen and onto the lab.

"Oh yeah, I forgot, it's reserved for occupation by a very specific man in your life." Tony flung back as he sat down, not for a moment missing the questioning scowl on Gibbs's face as he looked after Abby.

"And that's not going to change."

Gibbs turned to look at Tony, as if awaiting some explanation, and Tony instead turned his attention to his monitor, trying hard to ignore the glares from his team leader and partner. Glares that made his skin twitch. He would get through the rest of the day, head slaps and all.

❤ *·.·´¯`·.·* *·.·´¯`·.· **TIVA** ·.·´¯`·.·* *·.·´¯`·.·* ❤


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